Chryed Plans
by Mushroom Hair
Summary: Best laid ones
1. Chapter 1

"It's weird isn't it.." Syed mused chirpily, the comment making Christian put down the bottle of after shave he'd been generously slapping on his cheeks, to regard him fondly.

"What is?"

"The bed, being in a different room, not just over there, all handy.."

Moving his arm in a languorous sweeping gesture, Syed yawned, and settled back against the stripy sofa cushions.

Christian rubbed at a bruise on his elbow, and grimaced.

"Bloody inconvenient when your fiancé needs carrying off in a hurry, and you cannon against the doorway..."

"Aw, diddums. Do you want me to kiss it better? It's lovely though, our own king size boudoir. I was going to ask you, have you got louder on purpose?"

The corner of Christian's mouth twitched slightly, as he tried to suppress a laugh.

"To disturb the neighbours? As if… It's your fault, you're too damn hot. Anyhow, I'm making the most of the time I can, while it's still the two of us.."

Syed wrinkled his nose, and looked crest fallen.

"That's a point.. I'll miss the racket…Still." He brightened. "..Covert shagging has it's benefits too.." He reached out to take Christian's hand, pulling him over to stand in front of him.

"You look fantastic.."

Surveying Syed, draped across the white sofa, clad only in a red towel, tied loosely about his waist, Christian found it almost impossible to restrain himself from sweeping him up, and risking banging his elbows again.

"So do you. Edible. But you can't go out like that, you'll get arrested by the fabulous police.."

"Can't we be fashionably late? Everyone else always is.."

"Syed Masood! I'm shocked by your reckless abandon! We already are, and you know how hissy she gets if she isn't the last to arrive and make a grand entrance, hurry up and get dressed, we've already cancelled on them once.."

Syed groaned, and rolled his eyes grumpily.

"What's this place like? What shall I wear?"

Christian returned to the small round mirror he had balanced on the table, and crouched to peer into it, fiddling intently with the front of his hair, teasing each strand into place with studied precision.

"It's only some bar in town, wear your black tee shirt.."

"I can't, you're wearing yours. Much as I'm fully committed to our partnership, I draw the line at going out dressed identically.."

Laughing, Christian, finally satisfied with how his hair was looking, pulled out a chair and sat down.

"Ha ha! Like creepy, astonishingly un identical, twins.. A shirt then, the checked one, blue, not that other one you had on this morning.."

"Why? What's wrong with that one? I like it!"

Christian wondered how he could best voice his objections with tact and diplomacy.

"It's a bit…" He searched around in his brain for a suitable word. "..Jazzy.."

Feeling vaguely affronted, Syed pushed himself upright, grabbing the towel before it dropped to the floor.

"Hmm.." He huffed, "…Luckily for you, after this afternoon, and I daresay you did it on purpose, it's also jizzy, and in the wash.."

He couldn't quite dodge Christian's well aimed slap on his buttock as he passed. Sticking his tongue out, he reached down to ruffle Christian's carefully styled hair, giggling and slamming the bedroom door behind him as Christian yelled;

"You sod!"


	2. Chapter 2

"A cab, Christian? We're meant to be saving money.."

Christian twisted Syed around, shaking his head at him, and bundled him, protesting, into the back of the Taxi.

"Whitechapel, please mate.. I know, I know.. But we're late, late, late and I blame you…"

Throwing his arm around Syed, supporting his weight against his side as the cab lurched over a speed bump, Christian checked his reflection in the window.

"…My hair still all wrong, isn't it?" He looked forlornly at Syed, seeking reassurance.

"It's great, especially the grey one.."

"Whaaat? Where?" Christian leant forward, dodging from side to side and trying to see in the driver's mirror. Laughing to himself, Syed noticed something sticking out of the back of Christian's jeans.

"Come here, you numpty, I'm winding you up, I've probably got more than you, and what, pray, is this?"

With a nimble move, he extricated the black notebook from Christian's pocket, before he settled back down.

"It's an inflatable giraffe.." Christian snatched it from him, and opened it proudly, with a flourish, pointing to the words boldly written on the front page.

Syed raised his eyebrows.

"Wedding ideas?" He asked incredulously, fighting away a little spark of alarm, "You're going to pick Sam's brains for wedding ideas?"

Kissing him on the nose, ignoring the expression of dismay, Christian beamed happily.

"Yup! His and Steve's wedding was awesome, well I think it was.. To be fair, I was out of it by the reception, but the photographs look fantastic.. Don't look so scared, some of the drag acts will do the cabaret as a favour, ha ha!.. This is the place!.. Can you drop us here? Cheers…"

Syed stood on the cobble stones, at the start of a narrow alleyway, opening and shutting his mouth, wondering where to start with voicing his objections. Hearing Christian say; "keep the change!" as he paid the driver, finally galvanised him into wailing; "Christian!" in despair.

"What? It was only a couple of quid.. Your face! Come here!"

Enveloped in a massive hug, pressed against Christian's chest, and hearing his heart beat, deep and slow, Syed decided he might save the raising of his objections, to anything Sam might suggest, until they were safely back at home again, where he could be more subtly persuasive, or failing that, to find a way of confiscating the notebook and secretly setting fire to it.

"Now, I think he said it was around here somewhere.." Christian grabbed Syed's hand, and set off purposefully down the alleyway. The action gave Syed a frisson of delight, as he recalled another such time. He had to reluctantly let go of the possibility of repeating the delicious experience, when he noted that, despite it's dingy appearance, the cobbled street seemed to be quite a busy thoroughfare.

"This is proper olde London, isn't it?"

He squinted up at the overhanging, dilapidated buildings, almost expecting a woman's head to appear from a window above, shouting a warning that she was about to empty out the contents of a full chamber pot.

"I know! I hope we don't get press ganged, or robbed by hard pads…"

"Footpads.." Syed gently corrected him, "Hard pad is what dogs get.. Why did Sam suggest here? Did he think it was somewhere we'd all like?"

"Doubt it, he probably read about it in a magazine, described as 'happening' and 'current'. All Sam likes is screaming, and groping boys, and all Steve likes is whatever makes Sam happy, and a chance to show off his muscles and eat a cow pie with horns in it.. Here it is.." Christian stopped outside an archway in the wall, a flaming torch effect lantern beside it, sending rippling lights glancing across the high walls. From within, they could hear the sound of chattering, and low music, and smell the hop tang of beer.

"That sounds similar to you.." Syed rubbed Christian's bicep as he held open the door to let him pass through. "..Not the cow pie, or the keeping Sam happy, the showing off the muscles bit."

"These guns need appreciating! You complaining?"

"Not one tiny bit…"

Pitted stone stairs wound down into the busy bar, and they both paused at the entrance, searching around for familiar faces amongst the throng.

"..I knew it! First here! We could have got the bus.. Mmm"

Christian decided to stop Syed's half hearted attempt at an 'I told you so' with a quick smooch. It had the desired effect, leaving him speechless, flustered, and tousled.

"I'm going to do that every time you moan.."

Seeing the wicked glint in Syed's eyes, Christian realised he might, rather foolishly, have let himself in for a barrage of pretend complaints for the rest of the evening.

"..Try and find some seats, I'll get the drinks.. Is Michael coming?"

Syed shrugged.

"I don't know, you sent him the text.. I wonder if he'll like it here?"

"He likes you, showing off, and behaving like a toddler.. Why all the worry about what everyone else thinks of the place? Do YOU like it?"

Syed surveyed the curved red brick walls, the secluded alcoves, lit by candles in old wine bottles, the smooth wooden bar, and the groups of people chatting companionably to each other. The Bohemian, artistic ambience, made him feel as if he were in Paris, and he grinned cheerfully.

"Yeah, it's not bad…"


	3. Chapter 3

**Warning! (ooh, dramatic :D) If you are still gamely trawling through the long waffle on LJ, this is a bit spoilery xxx**

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><p>"O J for the handsome gentleman.." Christian slid the glass across the table top to Syed. "…And a pint of Old Filthy for me!" He slipped into his seat, and took an appreciative sip of the dark beer.<p>

"That looks vile.." Syed eyed the pint suspiciously, and Christian grimaced.

"It does taste pretty funky.." He admitted. "..This place is awesome, speciality ales AND cocktails, something for everyone. Plus you got us a great place to sit!"

Syed tipped his chair back, and leant his head against the brick wall of the alcove.

"I got lucky, I did some intense hovering until a bunch of people left, it's thinning out a bit in here.. Is it us?"

Grinning, Christian took another hesitant taste of his beer.

"They probably know Sam's coming.."

Another group, at the far end of the bar, began to gather up their coats and bags, as if on cue, and made their way, chattering brightly, towards the exit.

"..See! They heard me!" Christian chuckled.

Syed narrowed his eyes, and peered towards the dark corner that had been revealed by the departing crowd.

"Hang on, is that who I think it is?" He pointed to the still figure, staring intently at a drinks menu.

"Where?.."

Following the line of Syed's finger, Christian spotted the man, hair flopped down over his glasses, seemingly completely absorbed by the card in his hand.

"Blimey, so it is! Is that still going on then? He must have the patience of a saint. What's Michael said to you about it?" Christian's curiosity began to get the better of him, and he felt gossipy and nosy.

Syed shook his head dismissively.

"Only what you know, that Rory came to find him when he went mental, and to thank me for pointing him in the right direction. We're all always so busy, I've not had a chance to talk to him properly.. I'm surprised though, that Rory did anything about it, he seemed so indifferent when we last saw him. This isn't going to be an embracing coincidence is it? What reply did Michael send to your text?"

"Ooh! Do you think there'll be a scene? He wasn't indifferent, the man's an iceberg, it's all going on underneath.. Michael put 'Fabbo!' with a smiley face and a lot of kisses.."

Bridling, Syed pouted at his orange juice.

"Did he now.."

"Ha ha, jealous! Though I'm not entirely sure who of. At least you haven't started fretting about whether or not Rory will like it here. And before you do, I'd say he likes doing Michael.."

Syed giggled, and prodded at an ice cube in his glass.

"That could be interesting then. Do we all have to watch, and give them marks out of ten?" He asked.

"I daresay Michael would get an eleven, he's had a lot of practice.." Christian mused, and the half smile on his face made Syed huffy again. He flicked juice towards him.

"Oi! Have you been giving it some thought?"

"No, you twat. I was thinking you'd get a hundred out of ten."

Appeased, Syed wiped a drop of liquid from Christian's cheek, and licked it from his finger.

"Remind me to check those accounts you did. Should we ask him over? I mean, what if he's stalking Michael? A spurned lover?"

" Ha ha! Stalking, fnarr. I'd think it was more likely to be the other way round.. Anyway, we can't leave the poor sod standing there on his own. Who knows, maybe he's managed to keep Michael interested, perhaps it's the real thing? Rory!"

Christian bellowed across the bar, and Rory glanced in their direction, bemused, and looking as if he'd been woken from a coma into an alien world.

Syed tried to stop the tiny, proprietary, sensation of disgruntlement, at Rory possibly being the one to have taken Michael's heart away from him, and fixed his lips into a welcoming grin.

"Hello!" Rory joined them, putting down a pint glass, containing an identical liquid to Christian's, and pulled up a chair.

"Hiya! It's been a while.." Christian slapped him manfully on the back, making him buckle.

"..You went for the Old Filthy too, I see! Were you looking at the drinks menu to see what else they had?"

"The what? Oh that, no, my brain was engaged in the thorny issue concerning the regional differences of pigmentation, used in thirteenth century manuscripts.. I can see you're both riveted. How are you finding the Old Filthy?" Rory smiled politely at Christian.

"I'm getting a hint of Licorice.." Christian wrinkled his nose.

"Mingled with sump oil? Not that I've ever drunk sump oil.. I predict a big headache to follow, this stuff must be about eighty per cent proof. It's nice to see you, in better circumstances. Thank you again, Syed, for remembering where Michael might have got to."

Disarmed by the dark chocolate brown eyes meeting his own, Syed mumbled.

"No problem. Is he coming?"

Rory pushed his hair away from his forehead, and fiddled with the tattered cuff of his jacket.

"He said he might be late. He's been driving around Sloane Square in a nineteen sixties sport's car, having his picture taken, and then he had to go to a drinks party.." He glanced at his watch.

"He'll be over excited then.." Christian stated, raising his eyebrows at Syed.

"Very probably. I hope you don't mind putting up with me until then? I've been in the British Museum all day, so I'm in a cerebral stupor.."

Christian laughed.

"Syed gets like that, old dolly daydream.."

Syed was on the verge of protesting that he did no such thing, when the doors burst open, and an ear piercing screech, that could have awoken the dead from their slumber, ricocheted about the room.

"SWEETIES!"


	4. Chapter 4

They watched in silence as Sam shimmied towards them, dressed in the tightest, brightest, neon green tee shirt, and skinny jeans. Steve plodded along in his wake, making the bar suddenly seem much smaller than before. As they neared, Christian muttered to Rory, from the corner of his mouth;

"Have you met our friend Sam? He's very shy…" Then jumped up, allowing himself to be wrapped in an embrace, and air kissed loudly by each cheek.

Sam stretched over the table, nearly setting himself on fire with the candle in the process, and attempted to plant a kiss on Syed's lips. Prepared by previous attempts, Syed deftly dodged to the side, and received the kiss somewhere near his ear.

"Darlings! Have we all got drinks? Steve, get us drinks.." The pints of black, viscous beer caught Sam's eye, and he gagged.

"What the fuck is that?" His gaze slowly transferred to Rory, sitting quietly and patiently, waiting to be introduced, and he put his hands on his hips and pouted.

"And who the fuck are you?"

"Sam, behave!" Syed chastised him, "this is Rory, Michael's…" It struck him that he still wasn't entirely sure what state their relationship was currently in, and he floundered, looking to Christian for help. Seeing his discomfiture, Rory stood, and held out his hand.

"I'm just Michael's. Nice to meet you.."

Steve gave Sam a light tap on the back of his head, and stepped forward.

"Hello Rory, take no notice of her, she's pathologically rude. Do you want another one of those?"

Christian and Rory exchanged glances and grimaced.

"I think I'd like a glass of red wine, please.." Rory pushed his pint of Old Filthy away from him, and Christian did the same.

"Peroni for me. Sy, do you want another orange juice?" Christian gently stroked the back of Syed's head.

"Can I have a Virgin Pina Colada, Ste? Do you need a hand?"

"No, no.. You stay there. Time how long Sam is speechless for."

Sharp chin pulled into his neck, lips pursed and his eyes wide open, Sam was still regarding Rory with disbelief. Eventually he hissed;

"You lucky, lucky fucker.. I've only recently come to terms with Christian having Syed, and now this!"

Laughing, Christian pushed out a chair, and forced Sam into it.

"You've got the magnificent, gorgeous Steve, so don't feel too hard done by! It's good, this place, how did you hear about it?"

"Stella and Linda, do you remember them? They had their reception here. It's a bit too deadly dull for me, but I thought you two might like it.." Sam gaped like a fish, and stared at Rory again. "..You bastard.."

"Sam!" Christian slapped his hand, "We want to know all about your CP, focus.."

"Do we?" Syed mouthed, and Christian frowned at him.

"You were there, honey.. Oh, except you weren't, you kept slipping off.. OW!" Sam leant down to rub the shin that Christian had kicked under the table.

Christian produced his notebook, and a pen, and opened it up.

"We want ideas, names of suppliers, nothing too expensive though.. Have you been to many weddings Rory?"

They made room for Steve, bringing them their drinks on a tray, and Rory paused before replying;

"Only my sister's, when I was fourteen. She got married in a picturesque old church, dressed as a meringue. The reception was at a stately home. I spent most of it avoiding my family, and half inching champagne. I believe I was sick in the Ha-ha, so I'm probably not going to be much help...You can get married in the London Canal Museum, apparently.." He tailed off under the power of Sam's glare.

"Aww, that sounds lovely!" Syed said kindly, feeling himself beginning to warm to him, and Christian carefully, and pointedly, wrote down the location, tongue held between his teeth.

"ANYWAY!.." Sam cut in shrilly, ".. Why not have something grand? Sit on gold thrones, and have people come up and pay their regards.."

Syed sensed Christian stiffen beside him, and his heart fell as he saw a sadness etched on his face.

"No." He insisted, "I don't want that." He squeezed Christian's knee. "Can't we get married on a beach somewhere?"

"Don't you fucking dare! Deny us all of the party of the century? I'm thinking cabaret, I'm thinking oiled, semi naked waiters.." Sam hit the table in outrage, making the drinks wobble precariously, until Steve reached out a huge hand to steady it.

"I'm sure you are!" Christian snorted, moving the notebook, so that Syed could see he had written the word 'beach' inside a heart.

The hubbub in the bar seemed to suddenly quieten a little, and Syed wondered if it was because of Sam's outburst, then he noticed that Rory had become even more still, the only motion a slight twist of his hand, that made the ruby red wine glitter as it swirled in his glass, and that his mouth had subtly moved into a barely perceptible smile. He grinned at Christian, leaning close to whisper in his ear;

"I think Michael's here."


	5. Chapter 5

Sam shot up with unseemly haste, and began waving frantically at Michael, who was leaning across the bar, chatting to the handsome man behind it. He looked around, and raised his hand in greeting, then turned back to his conversation.

Christian winked at Syed, and they watched him, lounging gracefully, raffish in a sharp cut dark suit, his white shirt un tucked, and open at the collar.

At Sam's cry of; "Come here, you sexy fucker!" Michael managed to drag himself away, strolling casually towards them, and swaying slightly. Sam clambered over Steve's knees, to wrap his arms tightly around his neck, and he automatically supported him.

"Hell.. mmm" Michael politely returned Sam's full on kiss, opening his blue eyes wide in shock, and amusement.

Feeling Syed tap his arm, Christian regarded Rory, who still swirled the wine in his glass, and appeared untroubled, and disinterested, in Michael being molested.

'Or he's making a bloody good job of pretending..' Christian mused.

Steve had managed to forcibly prise Sam away from Michael, and he kissed him, then Christian, and finally Syed, full on the mouth, for longer than necessary, making Syed's chair wobble.

"Yum! Sorry…" Chastened by the sight of Christian's narrowed eyes, and Syed's bemused air of surprise, Michael grinned boyishly, and slumped down into the seat beside Rory.

Syed felt concern, tinged with a rush of triumph, that made him a little ashamed, when the two didn't greet each other with an embrace. But then he saw the slight touch of Michael's hand on Rory's, the smouldering look that passed between them, a quietness, blue eyes gleaming at brown, a secret smile, far more intimate than any contact. He turned, and gave the very same look to Christian.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Sam wailed, "Can we stop with the ocular orgy?"

"Who's having an orgy?.." Michael ripped his attention from Rory, and blinked mildly. "..Am I late? I've been driving a fantastic car, then I had to drink stuff and talk to people. Fuck knows who they were, I just flirted. They gave me this awesome suit!"

Rory laughed, and flicked at the lapel.

"Did they really, Michael? Or have you nicked another one?"

Giggling, Michael reached for one of the discarded pints.

"I'd never, ever do that.. I was trying to get matey at the bar to remember what you were all drinking, he couldn't. except for the lovely Mr. Masood, he fancies you, so I ordered another Virgin Penis Colada, and a bottle of champagne. What on earth is this?"

He took a large gulp of the Old Filthy, ignoring Rory and Christian's warnings, and bared his teeth in disgust, swallowing it with difficulty.

"Ach, that's vile! Is it sump oil? Will I die?" He clutched his throat dramatically.

"Inevitably." Rory slowly slid the glass away. "Do you want me to get you some water?"

Syed passed him the remains of his drink, and he accepted it gratefully.

"No, this will do.. Thank you. My eyes are bleeding!… He swiftly emptied the contents of Syed's glass, and rummaged in his jacket pocket for something to wipe his mouth, to rid himself of the taste of the beer. As he did so, he pulled out a business card, and a scrap of paper with a phone number, and the name 'Jimmy', clearly written on it.

Wordlessly, he scrutinised them briefly, tore them into tiny pieces, and handed the bits over to Rory.

"So, what were you all talking about? Was it me? Here comes our champagne. Christian! Go all manly, or more manly, if that's possible, this one's after your fiancé.."

The barman made a special effort to sidle behind them all, so that he could place the cocktail, adorned with a paper umbrella and a plastic monkey, right next to Syed.

He flushed, ducking away rapidly, and thanked the barman in a flustered mumble, sensing the muscles in Christian's arm, resting against his own, harden and double in size, pumped up as a warning to the young man.

"Oooh! Syed, you tease!" Sam mocked, and Syed fiddled with the umbrella in embarrassment.

"What? I didn't do anything!"

"He can't help being gorgeous.." Christian slung his arm around Syed's shoulder, and kissed his forehead. "… Michael, have you got any good ideas for our wedding?"

Michael took the champagne from the bucket, uncorked it expertly, and filled their glasses.

"Massive ice sculptures, of swans, or mythical beasts, or my cock.."

"I'll carve that for you.." Sam broke in, excitedly. "I'll need to do it from life though!"

"Calm down." Steve grunted. "I expect Rory might have something to say about that.."

Rory shrugged, and answered nonchalantly;

"It's his cock, he can do what he likes with it."

"And I do!" Michael grinned wickedly. "With you.. Is Tamwar going to be your best man, Syed? Who are you having, Christian?"

"Best woman, my mate Roxy.." Christian paused, waiting for the objections to begin, sighing at Syed's sharp intake of breath, knowing what was coming, before he hissed;

"Do you have.." He couldn't finish the sentence, due to Christian's tongue being suddenly in his mouth.

Breaking away, Christian regarded him sternly.

"I did warn you about what would happen if you moaned.."

"I've got lots of complaints, Christian. I can't STAND bad shoes.." Sam fluttered his eyelashes seductively, "..And don't get me started on moobs…"

"Nice try, Sammy boy. Entertainment, at the reception. Any thoughts?" Christian twirled his pen, and looked around the table enquiringly.

"I know a drag act called Tallulah.." Michael offered, "She does a fabulous Bette Midler, or you could get Rory to sing! You should hear his 'Dinner at Eight', makes me cry.." He gave a sentimental sniff.

"Rufus Wainwright?" Christian smiled encouragingly, noticing that Rory seemed to be shifting sideways, wanting to gravitate to a dark corner to hide.

"..That one might be a bit gloomy.."

"Honestly, you should hear him, it's beautiful. He could do another. Or a madrigal, maybe a sonnet…" Michael tailed off, finally aware of the twitch in Rory's jaw.

"..Or I could shut up. Shall I shut up?"

"Yes Michael, on this occasion, shut up..." Rory raised one eyebrow, and Michael laughed.

"..Have you sorted out a photographer?" Rory continued, "..I know a good one."

Syed beamed with delight.

"Oh, Michael, would you?"

"I didn't mean him." Rory's face was completely dead pan.

"Fuck off. Yes, please! I'd love to. He can carry my equipment.." Michael prodded Rory in the stomach, then let his hand fall onto his thigh, where it remained, and Rory, surreptitiously, curled his fingers around it.

"Good.. Photographer, tick! Sam, Steve, what are your thoughts on catering?" Christian tapped the pen against his teeth.

"Oh don't ask Ste, he'll just want pie, or an energy drink fountain.. I'm seeing a pink cupcake tower, sugared almond's in a little net bag, weighting down pearlescent balloons, in rainbow colours. Feathers! Not to eat, obviously.. Little nouvelle portions of loveliness, salmon mousses and coulis.. All born in by a procession! Topless waiters are an essential, natch. Maybe fire eaters, stilt walkers, jugglers!.."

Michael interrupted his flow with a loud groan.

"God, no… Not jugglers! They make me feel violent…"

"I can juggle.." Rory informed him.

"If you ever juggle anything more than my balls, I'm finishing with you, seriously.."

"AS I WAS SAYING!" Sam interjected, "Strippers, a male voice choir.."

Syed slumped in his chair, the words becoming a droning blur, bringing back the remembrance of having to endure relentless, sickeningly tedious, discussions about table cloths, when, all the time, his heart was breaking. He watched, with sad, despondent eyes, the tip of Christian's pen, moving swiftly across the paper, as he furiously recorded each suggestion with increasing glee. Dimly hearing Sam shout 'GAZEBOS!", Syed wanted to cry.

He was on the verge of slipping under the table, and crawling away, quietly and unnoticed, when Christian nudged him gently, and handed him the notebook.


	6. Chapter 6

_My darling._

_You can have all of this, or none of this. Though I must say, Sam's suggestion of being lowered down on a trapeze with long, swirling ribbons attached to our wrists is inspired! And I quite fancy having a juggler, just to see Michael get irritated._

_Take no notice of anything Sam says. His own wedding to Steve was in a beautiful hotel, he was given away by his old mum, had Suki, their late lamented Chihuahua as a bridesmaid, walked down the aisle to the accompaniment of a harpist, and spent the whole ceremony in floods of tears, as did I._

_The reception is a bit more blurry, but I distinctly recall speeches, a sit down meal, well, some of it, and Steve and Sam dancing to 'Angels'._

_We can get married in a castle, a hot air balloon, or Walford Registry Office. We can hold our reception in The Ritz, the Queen Vic, or the bus garage. I don't care where it is, as long as we do._

_I hope beyond hope, for you, that all of your crazy, irritating family will attend, (not least so Zainab can admire the ice sculpture of Michael's cock) :D_

_And I hope my mum doesn't get so pissed she starts a conga._

_We could have Amy as a flower girl, and Kamil as a pageboy, and as many, or as few, of our seriously strange friends, as we can handle. Or if you'd like, we can go away, the two of us, find that paradise beach, and say the words that only we need to hear._

_And one day, somehow, who knows? We might find an Imam to bless us._

_And all of this can wait, if it needs to, please don't get stressed about making it all happen quickly, for me. I waited for you, and I will do it again._

_And forgive me, when I'm crass and stupid, and don't quite get it, and say things I don't mean in the heat of the moment, because I love you, so much, that sometimes it scares me._

_Right now, I want to take you home, to our huge bed. I want to listen to you whinging about the fact that I left the lights on, and how much electricity I've wasted, I want to get cross with you for not having tidied the kitchen, and leaving your socks on the sofa._

_And instead of stopping your moans with a kiss, I'm going to kiss you so much that you can't stop moaning. I shall undress you, and caress your beautiful skin with the very tips of my fingers, all along your body. I shall twist your hair, and breathe softly against the hollow of your throat, I shall feel you tight against me, when I am hard inside you, I shall taste your salt hot sweetness in my mouth. And then, when we can take no more pleasure, I shall listen to your breathing, and wrap my arms around you, as you fall asleep on my chest._

_Do you think we can afford a cab home? xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx._

Sam was announcing that he thought a medley of show tunes played on hand bells would be the height of chic, sending Michael into paroxysms of mirth, clutching onto Rory's arm, while he tried to remain straight faced by pressing his lips really hard together, until he could take it no more, and burst out laughing too.

"Piss off, you clowns. Honestly, what do you pair know? Syed! Tell them! You'd like campanologists wouldn't you?"

Syed shut the notebook, and smiled at Christian, eyes sparkling with joy.

"Sam, I'd love them, a whole truck load, the more the merrier. But right now, me and Christian need to call a taxi."

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><p><strong>Thank you lovely reviewers and readers, I hope you liked it :) And a special thanks to ac for writing the word 'plan' and putting this into my head. :) xxxxxx<strong>


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